


Emotional Healing With Ben & Jerry & Claire

by FriendshipCastle



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendshipCastle/pseuds/FriendshipCastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire listens to Wesley whine about his sad crush on his huge, evil boss.  Takes place somewhere in the middle of <em>Daredevil<em> so not many spoilers.</em></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>This is nonsense written to amuse exactly two people (me and Hiccup).  Maybe someone else will enjoy it.</em>
  </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotional Healing With Ben & Jerry & Claire

Claire opened her door to the pinstripe suit, impeccable haircut, and austere spectacles of Wilson Fisk’s right-hand man, Wesley. There were a few spots of rain on his glasses and the shoulders of his suit jacket, but otherwise he looked as untouchable as ever. She stared from his faintly askew tie to his cold expression. 

“Rough week, little mermaid?” she said, and stepped aside to let him in.

“Yes,” he said. His shoulders slumped as he slunk through the door of her apartment, collapsing face-down on the couch. 

“I gotta make a run for more Ben and Jerry’s if you want anything besides mint chocolate cookie.”

He turned his head, glasses twisting painfully, so he could say, “Mint chocolate cookie is fine.”

“You can have the whole pint to yourself,” she called back to him on her way to the kitchen.

“You’re amazing.”

“ _Sí, claro._ ” She set a spoon in front of him and waited until he sat up to pass him the carton of ice cream. “All right, go ahead, tell me what’s wrong with your life now.”

“The usual,” he said. He popped the lid and shoved the spoon into the pristine ice cream, levered up a bite that was roughly the size of his fist, and crammed it into his mouth. “He fun a nuh guhfuh.”

“New girlfriend?”

“Yuh.”

“Yeah, I bet you helped him set it up, too, didn’t you?” Claire said, leaning back into the couch cushions. “ _Dios mio._ ”

Wesley gave her a mournful look and stuffed more ice cream into his face.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, little mermaid?” Claire said. “You have to find your voice and tell him how you feel eventually, or else you’re just gonna be a right-hand man to him forever. And no, not in a handjob way.”

Wesley gave her a dirty look.

Claire raised her hands. “Couldn’t resist. But seriously, why not just tell him?”

“What if he says no?” Wesley said.

“So? You’ve told him!”

“What if he’s homophobic?”

“If it hasn’t come up yet, he probably isn’t.”

“What if he fires me?”

Claire’s automatic instinct was to say ‘I’ll help you bury the body,’ but she recalled the company she kept and realized that such dark humor could be misconstrued as an actual invitation. She needed to stop letting criminals and vigilantes into her apartment. She shrugged instead. “Then you get out and sell his info to the highest bidder. Or get a job as a personal assistant for someone who actually appreciates you.”

“He appreciates me,” Wesley protested. He slipped another lump of ice cream into his mouth.

“It’s torturing you to work so closely with him,” Claire said. "Something has to change."

Wesley dropped his eyes and focused on the spoonful of mint chocolate cookie before him.

Her phone beeped. _The_ phone, actually. She’d missed a call, but she knew what that meant. Of course Matt couldn’t text but still, they needed to come up with a way for her to tell him to fuck off when she needed him to fuck off.

“ _Chingado_ ,” she muttered.

Wesley’s head snapped up. “Hm?”

“You need a Kleenex?” Claire said, thinking fast. “I’ll get some for you, hold on.”

Wesley blinked after her as she sprinted for her bedroom. She got there in time to see Matt on the fire escape outside her window, just about to rap on the glass. He was crouched awkwardly but wasn't favoring any part of his body. She didn't see cuts on his stupid black tissue-paper uniform.

She jerked the window open an inch. “Go away!”

Matt’s head cocked to the side. “What?”

“I’ve got company, leave!”

Matt took a deep breath and twisted his head to a new angle. “This isn’t a date, though. Just get rid of— Is that Fisk’s butler?”

“He’s not a butler, it’s creepy when you do that, and yeah it’s not a date but it’s still important,” Claire growled. “Find someone else to patch you up! Go bug Foggy or something!”

“You’re the one who's a nurse, Claire!”

“You’re not hurt that bad, now leave,” Claire said. “I’m sick of stitching your sad single ass up all the time. Come back when you have love issues you want to hash out over ice cream.” She snapped the window shut, pulled a box of Kleenex from her nightstand, and marched back into the living room.

Wesley had made a huge dent in the pint. Tears were starting to drip down his face, and he was sniffling. It was her own fault; she'd left him alone to wallow. Claire sat down next to him. She wordlessly held out the tissue box and started rubbing a hand up and down his shoulder.

“ ‘m fo pafetic,” Wesley whimpered, his mouth trembling and still full of ice cream.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Claire said. "You're not pathetic. You're a manipulative mastermind who cares too much, when you choose to care about people. That's a wonderful thing, I don't think it's pathetic." She was telling a bit of a white lie because honestly, when she had to listen to the same snotty sobbing about Fisk never seeing him as more than an employee week after week, it got a bit pathetic. Wesley was going to have to figure it out for himself, though. She was just here with the ice cream and tissues and pep talks.

"Heef buft futch a, a cumpicated ma-ha-han," Wesley sobbed.

"Yeah, I know," Claire said. She kept rubbing his shoulder. "I know, buddy."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outside, in the pissing rain, Matt cocked his head. He had super hearing and even _he_ was having trouble parsing what Fisk’s right hand man was saying. The man's voice was muffled by... something. Was he eating? Claire was even more incredible than he’d thought, if she could figure out what was being said. Matt settled down, the cold slats of the fire escape digging into his ass. He waited for her to get rid of the emotional wreck in there so she could deal with the physical wreck outside her window.


End file.
